


take my hand, take my whole life too

by jinora



Series: kiss prompts [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Modern/Human AU, fluff and lots of it, this got out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinora/pseuds/jinora
Summary: At this very moment, there’s a place where Keith would rather be. Small talk doesn’t come naturally to him, and after the ninth handshake and fifth clap on the back, he forgets the names and faces of those that approach him. He doesn’t feel too guilty about it either. Alone, surrounded by people and strangers, the isolation stings harder. Maybe he should run.





	take my hand, take my whole life too

**Author's Note:**

> from a prompt list (71. a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss)
> 
> i spent Way too much time googling things for this fic, which is 80% unedited btw bc i decided to be a bad grad student and write this when i have 3 papers due this week
> 
> pls enjoy ♥

The cuffs on his wrists are too stiff, his black leather shoes too new. His blatant disregard for formalities and polite appearances is no secret, so he’s been forbidden from touching his tie, too straight and too tight around his neck.

At this very moment, there’s a place where Keith would rather be. Small talk doesn’t come naturally to him, and after the ninth handshake and fifth clap on the back, he forgets the names and faces of those that approach him. He doesn’t feel too guilty about it either. Alone, surrounded by people and strangers, the isolation stings harder. Maybe he should run.

Recalling approximately three people who would throw a fit if he does convinces him otherwise.

This strange feeling, having anchored inside his gut and spread under his skin like a searing infection, puts Keith on edge. He gazes past the wooden arch, decorated in climbing blue moon and alba roses so beautifully intertwined with silver silk ribbon. In front of him, the attractive edge of the terrace tempts escape into the secluded forest that stretches out farther than he can see. Miles and miles away from the city, he wonders how bright the stars shine at night on this mountain. Keith swallows a bitter laugh. He loves it here. It’s almost unfair how well she knows him.

Sitting now on a crafted white chair in the corner, Keith looks up at the brilliant canopy of ancient redwood trees, catching gaps of orange sunlight in the spaces between dark leaves as if light and foliage were the intricately matched pieces of a puzzle of the sky. If he closes his eyes and drowns out the lively chatter echoing in his ears, he can hear the gentle breeze and the calls of wild birds. For as long as the hauntingly impassive trees have lived, they will also remain long after the last of his memory is gone. The gravity of his own insignificance humbles him.

On a day where everything is supposed to go wrong, it’s too perfect. He’s going to be sick.

 _Breathe, you idiot_ , Keith tells himself, falling back and hitting bone against the hard varnished surface of his chair.

He first meets her under the same tangerine sun, on the hot steel slide in the park outside his house. He still remembers the rose-colored ribbons holding her braids in place, and how much he wanted to pull them.

In the summer, when his father has a two-day shift and Shiro and his parents are far away in Japan, Keith plays at the neighborhood park until his mother comes home from her job. Nearly dusk, Keith is listless by his sixteenth time down the only slide. When his feet land on the gravel again, he stops and sprawls against the scratched metal surface, facing fantastical silhouettes in the form of dark pink clouds.

One passing cloud in particular looks like a husky puppy, and Keith starts to think that maybe he should remind his parents one more time that he wants a dog for his birthday. He’s old enough now, to be responsible for a pet. He would feed, water, and walk him every day. He wouldn’t even mind cleaning up after him. All he needs is a name. Keith struggles as he tries to decide the perfect name for his future dog.

“Why are you frowning?”

A sweet, high-pitched voice startles him out of his thoughts. Keith’s eyes widen when he finds a pair of bright, crystal blue eyes peering down at him.

“Are you sulking? Daddy says people sulk when they get rejected. Did all of your friends leave you?” the girl with a funny accent inquires, tilting her head curiously.

Stunned, Keith’s jaw drops a little. He’s never seen this girl before in his _life_.

“What – _no_! I wasn’t sulking!” Keith answers defensively and glares. He sits up faster than the girl can lean back, but she casually stands her ground, blinking innocently.

“You were frowning though. What were you thinking about?” she presses on, seemingly unaffected by Keith’s reaction.

“I –” Keith falters as he continues staring at this strange, but very pretty girl in front of him. Reminded of his train of thought from earlier, he blushes and averts his gaze. “A dog. For my birthday. But I don’t know if my parents will get me one.”

The girl gasps in excitement and grabs his arm. Keith’s eyes nervously flicker down at the small hand holding him.

“When’s your birthday?! Is it soon?”

He looks back up at her.

“October 23rd.”

“My birthday’s in September, so I’m older. I’m four and ten months,” the girl responds proudly.

Keith grins, feeling the urge to tease.

“I’m turning six.”

Clear disappointment washes over her face as she pouts, and Keith’s grin grows wider.

“Hmph, well,” the girl starts, letting go of Keith’s arm and almost shyly hiding her hand behind her sundress. “That means you go to school, right?”

“Yeah, I’m in first grade.”

“I’m starting kindergarten. I don’t know anybody yet because I just moved here. Will you be my friend? And then you can introduce me to your friends.”

“Oh.”

“What? Don’t you like me?” the girl snaps, crossing her arms and apparently offended.

“No, it’s just…” Keith trails off. He doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t really have friends either, besides Shiro, who’s in middle school. Fixating on the worn soles of his faded red sneakers, he contemplates his answer.

“Just what?”

“I wouldn’t be a very good friend. I only have one friend and his name is Shiro.” He can’t lie to her.

She giggles, and Keith doesn’t know what else to say.

“It’s okay if you just have one friend. I still want to be your friend anyway.”

Studying her expression, he quirks an eyebrow.

“Well, if you want to be my friend, you have to tell me your name first. I’m Keith.”

Relieved and eyes radiant, the girl beams brightly at him.

“I’m Allura.”

There’s one more condition.

“ _And_ you have to love racing.”

“I _love_ racing!”

Allura extends her hand out, waiting expectantly, to the boy she’s just met with storming violet eyes, and all Keith knows is to accept it with his. So easily, so naturally like air, Allura enters Keith’s life. In this and every lifetime, he believes, she grabs his hand and pulls him into her like two halves of a heart reuniting into one.

Keith Kogane comes to a stirring realization on a snowy Sunday morning.

The sharp chill of not-yet sunrise reaching his chest, uncovered in his sleep, wakes him. With tired, but open eyes, Keith languidly rolls to his side, glancing out the frosted windows and assuredly back to her, buried deep under the covers and sleeping soundly. The edges of his lips curl into a slight smile as he quietly reaches out to lightly tuck wavy, silver bangs behind Allura’s ear. Before he leaves the heat and comfort of his bed, for a little while at least, he stays with her, pushing away thoughts of kissing her awake.

Finally, he relents. Carefully, he sits up and makes a half-hearted attempt to fix his side of the tangled sheets. He finds his pajama bottoms on the floor, a loose college sweater on his desk chair, and dresses as he shuffles out the door.

His apartment in the city is nothing to write home about, but it’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer. More importantly, he can actually afford it while retaining decent access to public transportation.

He keeps the apartment clean and tidy, buys enough groceries for a week. The furnishings are inherited, sturdy, and the homely white walls are graciously thick. Keith likes to think it’s a fine apartment, all things said, but Allura complains about how the apartment looks barely lived in and buys a new piece of home decor every time she visits, because save for some books, his art supplies, and a few personal items in his room, Keith has to admit that she’s right.

While mentally mapping out his schedule for the day, Keith nearly runs into Allura’s most recent purchase, a potted young jasmine plant placed at the corner of the hallway, before he swerves and heads straight to the cool kitchen counter. In the kitchen, his first line of business is plugging in the coffee brewer. After measuring the grounds and placing them in the filter, he starts the machine. Following routine, he makes his way to the refrigerator, pulling out a nearly empty container of hazelnut creamer, cane sugar, and leftover pizza, and soon the warm, sour scent of brewed coffee floods the apartment.

Keith yawns as he waits for the coffee to finish, turning his head and taking the sight of a massive pile of freshly-washed clothes on the couch in stride. When the brewer beeps, Keith grabs the two ceramic mugs left to dry on the dishrack, placing them down in front of him.

After filling the mugs, Keith reaches out without looking for the creamer, stiffening for a moment when a pair of smooth, slight arms snake around his chest. Once the surprise fades, he empties the creamer container of its contents into the pink mug.

“Mhm, you’re warm. Don’t forget sugar,” Allura sighs pleasantly, hiding her face in the crook of Keith’s neck.

Glancing back at her, Keith smirks and deadpans, “Wear more clothes.”

Wordlessly, he adds the exact three and a half teaspoons of sugar to the coffee. Allura pretends to consider his suggestion, humming thoughtfully.

“No, I like it better this way.”

“Fine,” Keith resolves with amusement, grabbing her wrist and tugging her arm tighter around him.

Allura’s soft laugh, her subsequent sweet _thank you_ for the coffee seep into his skin, and Keith’s heart skips a beat and pounds in his chest. His eyes widen, staring down at steam slowly rising like daybreak from their mugs. It’s true, what they say. He just knows.

“Hey, Allura,” he says quietly, slowly.

He’s aware he’s impulsive.

“Hm?”

He wants to say it.

“Let’s…”

_She would want a ring._

Suddenly, he turns around to face Allura, forcing her to let go. Keith meets the blank confusion written on Allura’s face with a wicked grin. He takes her waist and pulls her close. Allura follows along, blinking expectantly. When Keith doesn’t say anything at first, Allura bites her lip, reading his eyes and daring just a little.

“…get coffee in you. Your flight’s in four hours,” he finishes anticlimactically, handing Allura her pink mug.

Allura inhales sharply.

“I want to punch you,” she says shortly. Accepting the mug but flashing an irritated look at him, she takes a long sip.

“I could say the same to you,” he replies, sliding his hand up the side of her chest and causing Allura to pout. “Your entire closet is still on my couch.”

Allura rolls her eyes.

“I was going to pack last night.”

“Why didn’t you?” Keith asks. His improvised grin quickly turns smug.

“Shut up,” Allura replies, looking away and trying not to smile as she takes another sip of her coffee.

“Allura,” says Keith. The inexplicable soft timbre of his low voice sends an involuntary shiver down Allura’s spine, convincing her to look away harder. Keith takes the mug out of her hands without warning, and Allura snaps her head back in disbelief.

“What are you –”

Keith’s heated hand finds the back of Allura’s neck, his fingers pushing back her tangled hair. Allura reacts before she understands, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Keith pulls her impossibly close, and her eyes flutter shut as Keith tilts her head, ready to catch her parted lips.

“ _Keith, it’s time._ ”

He falls forward, back to where he had started. He’s sitting in the chair again, not with her. Keith turns in the direction of Shiro’s calm voice, but when the implications of the message finally register, Keith panics and looks away. He stands up abruptly, scanning the terrace until he finds his mother sitting in the front row, and suddenly he feels like he’s five years old again.

Deeply amused, Krolia mouths words of comfort that Keith can’t quite decipher, nudging her husband beside her as he shoots Keith a sympathetic look. Keith tries to speak but the words, the emotions don’t come out. In the end, Lance punches the pent-up air out of Keith’s chest and shoves him up the steps toward the pastor.

“Shiro, I…what if she backs out?”

“Keith, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“She’s crazy for choosing me.”

“That’s true.”

“You’re not helping!”

Shiro chuckles, fixes Keith’s collar, and pats him hard on the shoulder.

“When I married Adam, I tripped walking up the steps and messed up my own name while reading my vows.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that. Takaji Shirugane.”

“Don’t bring that up ever again. And don’t worry. She loves you.”

“Thanks, Shiro.”

Quiet classical music streams overhead, so Keith takes a deep breath. For the first time all day, he lets himself look at every person. In the second row, Hunk shoots him two thumbs up, and Keith musters a small smile. A private wedding ceremony with family and close friends – there can’t be more than fifty people. Sixty seconds later feeling like forever, the procession begins.

The wind blows, and loose cherry blossom petals fall on Keith’s shoes. He glances down and traces their journey back down the steps, to the path of scattered pink, white, and yellow. First down the aisle is Lance, cleaning up well in his tailored suit and cobalt tie. Pidge follows, in shining pastel pink and a pale green headband, and then Romelle, radiant as the maid of honor. Lance’s nephew walks briskly with the rose gold rings, and his niece, crowned with flowers, drops deep pink and moonstone peonies as she spins to the stage. One by one, they arrive on stage, and Keith swallows. He can’t hear the music anymore.

He loves her. He’s in love with her. He wants to spend the rest of his life with her. His heart is about to jump out of his chest. He looks at his mother and father, then Melenor elegantly preparing tissues, but when he turns to Shiro, Shiro places a hand on his shoulder and gently nudges him back forward.

At the opposite end of the aisle, Allura, the ethereal star, stands next to Alfor. Keith’s heart doesn’t jump out of his chest. It stops. He forgets how to breathe. In an instant, he falls in love with her all over again.

Dressed in the color of snow, her gown, minimally embellished in her favorite floral patterns, falls to the floor like a cascading waterfall. Her silver hair fixes in a loose bun, fastened by lilies of the valley. Sparkling against the late afternoon sun, her glimmer illusion veil extends beyond the hemline of her gown. Her sleeves fall delicately off her shoulders, leaving in clear view the sapphire rose necklace Keith had given her on her seventeenth birthday. Her iridescent sky blue eyes are glazed and bright, and Keith realizes that his are too.

When she’s there on stage, facing him, she is wearing the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.

Keith bites his lip, takes her hand at once, and Allura giggles, clutching her bouquet of vibrant flowers a little tighter.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, a little breathlessly.

“Not so bad yourself,” she laughs.

Later, he realizes the music stops.

They repeat vows from the pastor. Keith makes promises he intends to keep for a lifetime, but there are things more important right now. He just wants to be with her, wants to kiss her senseless. He squeezes Allura’s hand, and she squeezes back. Feeling his impatience, Allura smiles and lifts Keith’s head up, looks deeply into his eyes.

“I’m so happy,” she mouths.

He thinks he could cry.

The pastor’s final words ring in his ears, but now, carefully lifting Allura’s veil, Keith only stares at the enticing blush pink of her lips.

Stepping forward, tenderly cupping her face, Keith gently presses his lips against hers. Allura grins into the kiss, happily wrapping her arms his neck. They part, unwillingly, when Keith tastes tears and he can’t tell who they’re from.

Keith laughs, looking down at Allura as he raises his thumb to dry her eyes.

Softly, closely, intimately, he tells her “ _I love you_.”

He knows he can’t kiss her too hard, not when they’re in front of her parents. He knows he shouldn’t, but he decides he doesn’t care. He lets go of her face, grabs her possessively by the neck and waist and lifts her off the floor. Keith catches Allura’s gasp with his lips when her body presses against his, and Allura returns the impassioned kiss in equal fervor, throwing her bouquet away to run her fingers through Keith’s hair.

Laughing as he sets her back down on her feet, Allura looks up, breathlessly, into Keith’s suggestive violet eyes, blushing furiously as she clasps his hand.

“ _I love you too._ ”


End file.
